


As Long as It's About Me

by Alien_Ariel



Category: Moana (2016)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Humor, MONSTER FUCKER, Maui cameo, Modern time period, Praise Kink, Reader is a Dancer, Size Difference, Size Kink, Songfic, and reader is weirdly into that, but still asks maui if it's weird because she's still human, can read as either an oc or a reader, drunk!Ariel, duh - Freeform, excessive use of the word SHINY, he tries to act smooth but at the end of the day he's a giant crab monster, its Valid, its marked explicit for a reason yall, looking at about 6 to 10 chapters most, main character gives exactly zero fucks if someone judges her for wanting to sex up the crab monster, maui/moana implied but so minor that im only tagging it because i wanna, monster fucking, my friend said I had to tag it caused I was fuckin sloshed writing this, reader is a singer, she's got a name and description but whatevs, shipwrecked reader, tamatoa's a big nerd, updates in my spare time while I get back into the swing of writing, wtf even is my sexuality at this point, yeah there's gonna be giant crab sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alien_Ariel/pseuds/Alien_Ariel
Summary: If Tamatoa was ever pressed—as unlikely as that was, given both his solitary existence and status as one of Lalotai’s biggest bads—he would very firmly maintain that it was utility that had brought him topside after more than a millennium skulking around Lalotai as though homeless.Yes, it was the thought entering his mind that he could only do so many circuits of the realm of monsters before he’d have to admit that he’d seen it all and found it lacking; so why not instead check some of the abandoned islands on the surface for a new home? Yes, Tamatoa thought, living like a king on an island only he could inhabit did have a clear appeal to it.It was not—definitely not—the human. Neither she, nor the sound of her singing, was what drew Tamatoa’s curiosity, and thus him, to the surface that first evening. It was silly, simply ridiculous, to even suggest.She just... happened to be there when he peeked his head out from the waters of the ocean.-------------------------------She might have just been a human. No, she was just that. Nothing more.And that's what made it all the harder for the splendidly shiny Tamatoa to admit, mostly to himself, that she had caught his attention.





	1. Bring a Song and a Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys know that I'm a dirty monster fucker? I imagine you probably do if you're heading over here from my Undertale fics wondering why I haven't updated either story for months now--and if you are one of those readers, hi! I still love you. Just taking a little time off. And if you're not here from either HSOF or TGA, I still love you. Because you're here for basically the same reasons. This is a safe place, my dudes. Welcome home.
> 
> Updates may be a little sluggish, as I'm mostly using this as an exercise to stretch my writing muscles back into action after several months off. Not expecting there to be any more than 6-10 chapters on this story, but that just means we'll get to the good stuff faster, so hey. Chapters have been edited multiple times for quality/clarity, but I don't have a beta so some syntax stuff is bound to slip past my own brain. If you notice something egregiously wrong, lemme know in the comments and I'll hop on to correct.
> 
> Songs will be featured in each chapter, so I link em when singing starts.
> 
> Lemme know what you think, duders. Much love and see you soon for chap 2.

**As Long as It’s About Me**

_Chapter 1 – Bring a Song and a Smile_

"Up Around the Bend" by Creedence Clearwater Revival 

 

There was a storm raging above Lalotai that could almost even be felt beneath the miles of waves separating the surface world and the realm of monsters. Tamatoa spared it but a glance before returning to his endless, pointless search for a new lair. Despite considering himself well above trifling feelings like _optimism_ or _cynicism_ , instead just considering himself _worthy_ —another thing entirely—Tamatoa was, regardless, starting to allow melancholy to creep into his mind.

Several millennia of scouring the ever-unchanging scenery and trekking the same trails he always had would do that to anyone, even a crustacean as mighty as he.

Try as he might—and believe him, he had _nothing but time_ to try—Tamatoa simply could not find a home to come even close to the one he’d lost so many years ago, much less something to rival his once splendid, sparkling lair.

“Ooh,” Tamatoa seethed, scowling at nothing in particular aside from his own memories, “If that human had any chance of still being alive after all this time, I’d rip her limb from limb myself.”

It was useless anger, as Tamatoa was just as likely to get back into his old home as he was to run into—what was her name? The one that had been escorting the demigod Maui across the sea and had stolen his fishhook back for him? Whatever, not important.

Both the long-dead human and his cave were now out of his reach, as they had been for longer than Tamatoa could almost even remember.

The storm raged a few notches above its already fevered pitch, drawing Tamatoa’s ire once more. He could only imagine what it looked like topside; it had been eons since he’d bothered to pop his head up. Ever since the Heart of Te Fiti had been restored, the ocean wasn’t the wild west it had once been and it was more of a risk for monsters to traverse than Tamatoa wanted to tango with if he could avoid it.

...It wasn’t a _fear_ thing. It was just... an annoyance he didn’t need.

Exactly.

The storm gave a new, tremendous roar as if to question Tamatoa’s own unspoken assertions, and he stared directly upwards in defiance, glaring through the layers and leagues of water to where the sun would normally hang, apathetically trickling its last weak dregs of sunlight into Lalotai, were it not currently blotted out by colossal, inky storm clouds.

“If it’s attention you’re lookin’ for, try someone else. I got places to be,” Tamatoa told the storm, returning to his aimless scuttling about, trying to look as though he had any destination in mind at all.

Above him, bobbing along the cliff-like waves of the angered ocean as best it could, a lone boat went unnoticed. Its struggle against the dark, cloying currents trying to rip it apart was almost _human_ in its tenacity. But not even humanity could tame the ocean and the forces that drive it. The vessel didn’t appear to even make a noise as it finally succumbed to the storm, capsizing and disappearing beneath the layer of black water in the blink of an eye.

Some time and distance farther away a girl breached the surface, sputtering and spitting water from her lungs like a geyser. She had just enough strength to pull some debris to her side, still buoyant enough to keep her afloat—if she managed to ride out the passing storm.

And then she drifted away, both in her mind and on the ocean current.

 

* * *

 

If Tamatoa was ever pressed—as unlikely as that was, given both his solitary existence and status as one of Lalotai’s biggest bads—he would very firmly maintain that it was _utility_ that had brought him topside a few days after the massive storm.

Yes, it was the thought entering his mind that he could only do so many circuits of the realm of monsters before he’d have to admit that he’d seen it all and found it lacking; so why not _instead_ check some of the abandoned islands on the surface for a new home? Yes, Tamatoa thought, living like a king on an island _only he_ could inhabit did have a clear appeal to it.

It was not— _definitely not_ —the human. Neither she, nor the sound of her singing, was what drew Tamatoa’s curiosity, and thus him, to the surface that first evening. It was silly, simply ridiculous, to even suggest.

She just... happened to be there when he peeked his head out from the waters of the ocean, eye stalks swiveling in every direction to locate the sound he’d heard from all the way down in Lalotai, as scattered and muffled as it was through the waves.

There was a tiny deserted island not far from where he’d surfaced—actually, it seemed to be a chain of several especially small landmasses, all separated by short expanses of water. Tamatoa quickly hid himself behind a sandbar close enough to watch the largest island but far enough away not to be seen in the darkness of the growing evening. On the island across the water from his hiding spot there seemed to be just enough space for some scrubby grass and bushes to take root in the sand, along with a few coconut trees farther inland.

And on that particular island was the source of the singing Tamatoa had heard: an unkempt-looking human girl, kicking up sand as she danced around the meager fire she’d built on the shore.

> _[There's a place up ahead and I'm goin'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DX3o1O8ZsTw) _  
>  _Just as fast as my feet can fly_  
>  _Come away, come away if you're goin'_  
>  _Leave the sinkin' ship behind_
> 
> _Come on the risin' wind,_  
>  _We're goin' up around the bend_

There was something incredibly odd about the girl, and it wasn’t just to do with the fact that she was seemingly content to dance about a tiny piece of land clearly serving as her prison—assuming humans were still as uncoordinated on the ocean as Tamatoa remembered them being. Honestly, she was just... odd. In general. In totality.

Her hair was a somewhat reddish but bleached brown color, not blonde like the sands her bare feet were scattering as she danced, but rather a shade or two darker; and it had the distinct air of not being her natural color despite how well she carried it. With her overall appearance being as disheveled as it was, indicating she’d washed up on this island from a shipwreck, it was hard to tell if her hair was always as wildly curly and tangled as it currently was, or if that was just from her ordeal; as it was, the massive pile of curls atop her smallish, rounded face added half a foot to her silhouette on either side of her as she blocked his line of sight to the fire.

> _Bring a song and a smile for the banjo_  
>  _Better get while the gettin's good_  
>  _Hitch a ride to the end of the highway_  
>  _Where the neon's turn to wood_
> 
> _Come on the risin' wind,_  
>  _We're goin' up around the bend_
> 
> _Oh_
> 
> _You can ponder perpetual motion,_  
>  _Fix your mind on a crystal day,_  
>  _Always time for a good conversation,_  
>  _There's an ear for what you say_
> 
> _Come on the risin' wind,_  
>  _We're goin' up around the bend._

As she once more passed from in front of the fire to its side, details of the rest of her form became apparent; and that added even more strangeness to her. Her eyes were shut but there was somehow a smile on her lips as she swung her arms above her head, the sleeves of her cropped leathery-looking jacket squeaking a bit. The hem of the jacket climbed well above her waist as she extended her arms, which seemed to Tamatoa to be less than practical: it was unlikely to keep her warm or sheltered if it was that short.

Not that _he_ ever chose practicality over aesthetics. But he was a special case: He was Tamatoa.

This girl was a human. Weak. Fragile.

A rather good singer? And a somewhat charming dancer, even if she wasn’t particularly skilled.

> _Catch a ride to the end of the highway_  
>  _And we'll meet by the big red tree,_  
>  _There's a place up ahead and I'm goin'_  
>  _Come along, come along with me_
> 
> _Come on the risin' wind,_  
>  _We're goin' up around the bend_
> 
> _Yeah_
> 
> _Do do do do_  
>  _Do do do do_  
>  _Do do do do_  
>  _Do do do do yeah_  
>  _Do do do do_  
>  _Do do do do_

Finally, the source of the music was determined as she finished her song and retrieved a small black rectangle from the back pocket of her acid-washed jeans—Tamatoa had finally noticed the girl was singing along to a backing track of instruments. What sort of device could produce so much sound, despite being so small? Maybe humans and their technology had developed a bit since his last trip topside. Maybe it was magic.

Whatever the reason, Tamatoa didn’t find himself interested enough to divert his attention from the human herself.

She tapped a thumb against one side of it, which then seemed to light up with a bluey glow not unlike his bioluminescence. He got only a quick glimpse of the suddenly tearful look on her face before she held down a button on the side of the device and it died in her grasp.

She stared down at the thing in her hand for one long moment before re-rolling the cuffs on the ends of her pants and settling herself down on a makeshift bed beside the fire, one hand tucked under her carpet of hair and the other grapping her elbow.

She stared into her campfire unblinkingly, like she was trying to sear her retinas right out of her head, before she closed her heavy, dark lids and rolled the other way to fall asleep.

As Tamatoa sunk back into the waters of the unsettlingly calm ocean and drifted back down into Lalotai, the sight of her eyes stuck with him.

It’s no wonder why she kept them closed while she was singing and dancing: They had no place in that vivacious, fearless display of survival and life in the face of impossible odds and total helplessness.

Not with how stone-cold dead they were.


	2. Watching in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys I have to be so fucking drunk to write these chapters.
> 
> My friend Ali ([Doodlekins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlekins/pseuds/Doodlekins) on here check her out) also writes/edits drunk so we've started tagging stuff we wrote while drinking with the "drunk!name" tag. everytime i look at it i giggle. Also this story in general jus kinda does that to me. I really love it. aaaaanyway this chapter is a lot of musical fun; I link em where appropriate. Brief mention of thoughts of suicide at the very end, but it's not graphic/all that descriptive.
> 
> And of course thank you for the comments, kudos, and hits! Mostly writing this for myself but it's nice to know I'm not just screaming smut into the void and filling my google search history with "wtf do crab dicks even look like tho" for a reason.   
> [ they're called gonopods if you wanna look em up. ya know. for research for this fic ] not especially sexy but it's not the anatomy we're all here for anyway.
> 
> imma go get started on finishing chapter 3 while im still good and buzzed. see yall on the other side! hugs

**As Long as It’s About Me**

_Chapter 2 – Watching in the Night_

_“Sara Smile” by Hall & Oates_

 

If it was unlikely that anyone would ever interrogate him about his initial reasons for going topside, it was even much less likely to happen that anyone would then pressure Tamatoa to explain himself for returning every evening since. But let the record stand that he was not going to investigate the human!

He wasn’t. That was a stupid thing to claim.

No, it was actually the island that the human’s nasty little feet had found themselves on that intrigued Tamatoa, thank you very much.

Yes. It was the ideal size for his new home; much too big for her— _so greedy_ for her to inhabit the deserted locale all by herself when it was _so perfect_ for a mighty king such as himself!

Even the location was fitting for his needs, as it was close enough in proximity to his original cave below in Lalotai that, should he ever find some way to clear the landslide that had caused it to be inaccessible to him, he would have no trouble relocating the hoard still contained within; this was no place for a delicate human such as her. And delicate she _was_ —he could already see the burns along the slice of skin on her stomach exposed by her cropped orange top.

What’s more, Tamatoa found himself rather enamored with the warm-toned light of the surface world. It was certainly more attractive on his shining carapace than the dilute, watery light that traveled to Lalotai through the ocean. And she was obviously ignorant to the gift she’d been given by living on the surface all her years, only seeming to truly come to life once the sun had set and she’d pulled out that strange little device, clutching it in her hand so tightly you’d think it was the only thing keeping her alive.

Tamatoa scoffed. It couldn’t be _that_ important to her, since she only used it for a few minutes a night.

The second day, Tamatoa once more caught her in the middle of what he’d come to know as her little nightly ritual. She was already mid-song when he slunk behind the adjacent sandbar.

> _[The best of us can find happiness, in misery](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhMGKSRIwGM) _

She’d ditched her jacket tonight; it was laying in a ball on the top of the wood plank and uncomfortable tarp-like sheet that made up her bed. Tonight she had kicked herself into an even higher gear than she had previously: Her music was harsher, louder, and she was practically screaming the words to whatever song she’d chosen.

> _Oh, take a chance, let your body get a tolerance,_   
>  _I'm not a chance, but a heat wave in your pants_   
>  _Pull a breath like another cigarette,_   
>  _Pawn shop heart trading up, said no_
> 
> _I'm the oracle in my chest,_   
>  _Let the guitar scream like a fascist,_   
>  _Sweat it out, shut your mouth,_   
>  _Free love on the streets, but_   
>  _In the alley it ain't that cheap now_

There was a chaotic, desperate quality to the tone of this display, which Tamatoa found he didn’t... prefer.

_Prefer_? As if.

No, it’s just that this music wasn’t as suited to her as the previous night’s song.

Suited her? _Oh please_.

He neither cared to waste the time analyzing her character, nor did he deign her worthy of his attentive thought. Tamatoa spared but a moment to roll his eyes.

> _I don't care what you think,_   
>  _As long as it's about me_   
>  _The best of us can find happiness, in misery_   
>  _I don't care what you think,_   
>  _As long as it's about me_   
>  _The best of us can find happiness, in misery_
> 
> _Said-a, I don't care just a-what you think,_   
>  _As long as it's about me, you said-a_   
>  _I don't care just what you think,_   
>  _As long as it's about me, you said-a_   
>  _I don't care (I don't care)_   
>  _You said I don't care (I don't care)_   
>  _Said I don't care, I don't care_   
>  _I don't care (I don't care), I said-a, I don't care_

Now there was a sentiment Tamatoa could almost understand. He rather enjoyed being thought of, being viewed and either feared or admired. It didn’t matter which, because both were potent. Powerful.

This girl absolutely looked like she would prefer to be admired, however. There wasn’t anything remotely intimidating about her—and she was just _so puny_. Tamatoa nearly snorted in amusement as, eyes squeezed entirely closed, the girl threw punches in the air in time to the words.

Yes, nothing to fear from this human. Not even the many colorful tattoos running up and down her arms could make her look scary (so humans were still doing that even thousands of years later, huh?).

> _I don't care what you think,_   
>  _As long as it's about me_   
>  _The best of us can find happiness, in misery_   
>  _I don't care what you think,_   
>  _As long as it's about me_   
>  _The best of us can find happiness, in misery_

And it was already over. Fireside ritual complete, the little human was again staring unhappily down into the device she kept in her back pocket. She muttered some soft, small thing to herself, which might have sounded like a number, before once more killing the blue light and dejectedly laying herself down to sleep.

Her eyes didn’t even seem to reflect the fire, they were so blank.

And then they were gone and her back was once more facing him from across the waters.

Well that was even more pointless than the fit she’d pitched yesterday! Maybe it was due to the faster pace of tonight’s song, but she was done and asleep within just a few minutes of Tamatoa rising to break the water’s surface and scuttling behind his hiding spot. This was perhaps the most critical point of annoyance for Tamatoa, as he had barely even gotten there before he was already leaving again.

Whatever. So tonight wasn’t as good.

Wait—no _, NOT_ whatever!

He was a great and terrible monster of Lalotai—no, _THE_ great and terrible monster of Lalotai! His time was very important and it wasn’t to be wasted on a ten-minute round trip to the surface and back just for some piddly two-minute song. Maybe he’d give her a piece of his mind, and his frustration, tomorrow. Yeah, that sounded good.

It was very important that Tamatoa return the next evening to remind the little human of this.

That’s right.

That’s why he came back the third night; and early this time, so he wouldn’t miss anything.

Tamatoa had to be extra careful, as the sun had set but the last rays of evening light were still scattering across the unbroken sky. He chuckled darkly, eye stalks swiveling all over the purples and indigos of the quickly approaching night sky; did it upset the little human to see the world so peaceful when it was surely the other night’s earth-shattering storm that had wrecked her vessel and trapped her on this island? It must be infuriatingly ironic.

He dug into the soft muds of his hidden sandbar, settling himself deeply in preparation for a longer song tonight. She would have _felt_ his very anger, so he didn’t need to actually express it to her in words after all.

Yes, that was very beneath him.

_She knew_. Surely.

After a few minutes of stoking her wimpy fire, the little human seemed to have at least pleased herself enough to leave it be, casting her head back and running a hand through her enormous head of curls, fingers snagging several times hard enough that she should have winced. She seemed to stare toward the spot where the sun had set, focusing on the first stars beginning to dot the horizon, before huffing a little sigh and retrieving her black box from her jeans.

Tamatoa listened more intently than last night, head tilted and eyes narrowing as though it would help him hear better as she held the button she usually did to kill the device. This same action seemed to also awaken it, as her face was swiftly cast in the blue tone it radiated. She was not smiling, and her eyebrows were furrowed as she tapped a few times on the blue light.

She sighed heavily and deflated until she was almost half her size.

“Eighteen percent,” she said tiredly before moving her thumbs across the light, causing light shadows to play across her lined face. But she transformed the second the device started to play its mysterious music.

She was shutting her eyes, and she once more looked alive.

> _[Hail (hail)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bc0KhhjJP98) _   
>  _What's the matter with your head, yeah_   
>  _Hail (hail)_   
>  _What's the matter with your mind_   
>  _And your sign an-a, oh-oh-oh_   
>  _Hail (hail)_   
>  _Nothin' the matter with your head_   
>  _Baby find it, come on and find it_   
>  _Hail, with it baby_   
>  _'Cause you're fine_   
>  _And you're mine, and you look so divine_
> 
> _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_

There was a measure of something... scripted to how she was dancing tonight. It wasn’t the loose, hip-waving kind from the first night, or the angry, punching kind from yesterday. This was much more rehearsed, it seemed.

The little human was almost distracted by trying to remember her steps.

> _Hail (hail)_   
>  _What's the matter with you feel right_   
>  _Don't you feel right baby_   
>  _Hail, oh yeah_   
>  _Get it from the main vine, all right_   
>  _I said-a find it, find it_   
>  _Go on and love it if you like it, yeah_   
>  _Hail (hail)_   
>  _It's your business if you want some, take some_   
>  _Get it together baby_
> 
> _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_

She was bobbing her head and thrusting her hips in a way that wasn’t even very feminine. And it was completely at odds with any way she’d moved before tonight. It was baffling to watch, especially when she seemed to try to reach for something that wasn’t there to lift to her mouth and sing into.

> _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_
> 
> _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love, now_
> 
> _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_

At one point the little human began to spin in circles, arms spread from her body, and appeared to have made herself so dizzy that she nearly fell over. And then she actually did when she tried to slide barefoot through the wet sands of the shore. Tamatoa snorted so loudly that bubbles rose up through the water he was submerged under and broke along the surface, making a popping, rumbling noise she was thankfully too engrossed in her routine to hear.

It was almost cute to watch her flub for once. She always seemed completely in control of her body, even when she had lost control emotionally.

> _Hail (hail)_   
>  _What's the matter with you feel right_   
>  _Don't you feel right baby_   
>  _Hail, oh yeah_   
>  _Get it from the main vine, all right_
> 
> _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_   
>  _Come and get your love_

Well at least she looked decently worn out after her dance tonight. Tamatoa could see the slight hitching of her chest as she pulled out the black box, lit it up, and glanced at something toward the top of the light.

“Fifteen percent,” she muttered before quickly extinguishing the light and returning it to her pocket, “So that means I’ve got...” She made a motion as though she were counting on her fingers, which seemed to reward her with some sort of information she smiled at but didn’t speak aloud, so Tamatoa could only guess what it was.

But, as she laid down for sleep, her eyes were still as empty as ever.

Tamatoa waited for her breathing to even out before wiggling himself free of his nest of sand and once more sunk back to Lalotai, an unease he couldn’t place settling inside him.

He had no excuse to return, but the next evening once more found Tamatoa digging into the sandbar he’d now become quite acquainted with.

This time he’d arrived so early that the little human hadn’t even started her fire yet and the sky was more orange than purple. Despite the deficient one she’d made the previous night, she did seem to be taking extra care to stack the sticks and kindling in a more organized structure this time around. She produced another strange rectangle from a pocket on her leather jacket— _ooh, a SHINY rectangle_!—and used it after a flick of her calloused thumb to produce a tiny flame from nowhere, which she held to the tinder and then just as quickly extinguished.

Maybe she did have magic.

At this point, Tamatoa was more willing to give her credit for something like that than he was to the rest of humanity somehow creating such a remarkable technology.

She leaned into the teepee of logs, volumes of hair being held back by a careful hand, to blow against the flame, encouraging it to strengthen. In no time at all, the fire was roaring and she was leaning back on the heels of her feet with a triumphant smile on her mouth. It extended nowhere near her eyes, but Tamatoa more or less accepted that as part of the little human now.

Once the night started to come on, she stood to her full, but still tiny, height and produced the black box.

“Twelve percent. Shit,” she sighed, seemingly frustrated with the number. She wasted no further time before tapping the light like she always did, summoning a song like she had the fire from her shiny rectangle.

Tamatoa settled further into the warm sands, relaxing as she shook out her shoulders and closed her eyes in preparation of her nightly ritual.

> _[Well, just, look at that girl with the lights comin' up in her eyes.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6pT_BDpnog) _   
>  _She's got to be somebody's baby._   
>  _She must be somebody's baby._   
>  _All the guys on the corner stand back and let her walk on by._
> 
> _She's got to be somebody's baby._   
>  _She must be somebody's baby._   
>  _She's got to be somebody's baby._   
>  _She's so fine._

She was back to her same self from the first night, loose and slight in her movements. At least... at first.

> _She's probably somebody's only light._   
>  _Gonna shine tonight._   
>  _Yeah, she's probably somebody's baby, all right._

At the first instance of what sounded like the song’s chorus, she transformed. There was now something about her movements, her steps, her voice that was distinctly... attractive.

No.

Wait.

Couldn’t be.

> _I heard her talkin' with her friend when she thought nobody else was around._   
>  _She said she's got to be somebody's baby; she must be somebody's baby._   
>  _Cause when the cars and the signs and the street lights light up the town,_
> 
> _She's got to be somebody's baby;_   
>  _She must be somebody's baby;_   
>  _She's got to be somebody's baby._   
>  _She's so_
> 
> _She's gonna be somebody's only light._   
>  _Gonna shine tonight._   
>  _Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight._

If Tamatoa could sweat, he’d be sweating right now. Maybe it was the words she was singing. There was something distinctly more provocative about them, wasn’t there?

Had to be.

> _I try to shut my eyes, but I can't get her outta my sight._   
>  _I know I'm gonna know her, but I gotta get over my fright._   
>  _We'll, I'm just gonna walk up to her._   
>  _I'm gonna talk to her tonight._

No, he wasn’t.

That thought would leave his head right now if it knew what was good for it.

> _Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's only light._   
>  _Gonna shine tonight._   
>  _Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight._
> 
> _She's gonna be somebody's only light._   
>  _Gonna shine tonight._   
>  _Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight._
> 
>   
>  _Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight._
> 
> _Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight._
> 
> _Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight._
> 
> _Awoo!_
> 
> _Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight._
> 
> _Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight._
> 
> _Yeah_
> 
> _Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight._

It had to just be the words of the song messing with him. The word “shine” was just a trigger for him. He liked shiny things.

Yes, that made sense.

He was just imagining her, his little human, as some shiny treasure. He was just missing his trove, still trapped as it was behind the landslide. It was just a case of misplaced desire.

Yeah, that’s it.

That’s all it is.

“ _Seven percent_?” Both of Tamatoa’s eyes flicked back to her from their position of independently glaring at the other at the sound of anguish in her voice.

She was back to looking down into the hand holding her black box, the other threaded through her hair to keep it out of her face as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. Tamatoa didn’t understand the numbers’ significance, but the fact that they were decreasing so rapidly seemed to distress her horribly.

It was the kind of distress more fitting for being trapped on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean. Not for numbers going down.

“Fuck. I thought I’d have...” she cut herself off, killing the light of her box as something like realization seemed to dawn on her face. Then she let it slip from her fingers to land softly in the sand below her. Fitfully, she threw herself down onto her bed, sniffly softly for only a moment before she angrily swiped the heel of her palm across each of her eyes—eyes that slowly meandered back to the box.

She quickly scooped it up from the sand, holding it briefly to her heart before slipping it back into her pocket where it belonged.

Her eyes, even darker and deader than before, stared into the fire for a worryingly long time before she shut them with a snap, almost as if daring sleep to defy her. This time she didn’t roll over.

Lines were still furrowing her brow even as Tamatoa fell back into Lalotai.

The next day found Tamatoa rising to the surface multiple times over the course of the morning and afternoon, only his eye stalks leaving the water, like periscopes, as he scanned the edge of the waves. He wasn’t sure what she got up to before the evening hours, as he’d never bothered to look for her before she’d sing herself a song and put herself to sleep.

And even now it was still mostly a mystery to him.

He wasn’t sure where she could have gone off to, given the island’s miniscule size and general lack of cover; but he also couldn’t exactly approach the shore to get a better view of the island’s interior to search for her. It seemed likely that she was escaping to the meager shelter the handful of coconut trees provided—her sunburn had only been getting worse each day and she was probably inviting the chance for dehydration if she baked under the high noon sun for too long.

However, she did seem to become more active during the late afternoon hours, when she would eat what she could scavenge from the trees and berry bushes surrounding her. Tamatoa also thought he might have seen the sun reflect off a foil wrapper she produced from a hidden satchel farther up the shoreline from where she usually resided. If the face she made was any indication, she’d rather not eat the grainy, crunchy bar contained within; but if the little dances she performed every night meant anything, it was that she’d rather survive than waste away.

At least, that’s how it appeared to Tamatoa.

Humans _were_ always big on the whole _not dying_ thing.

And she did seem to be humming something to herself, perhaps in better spirits now that she’d had her fill and returned half of the bar to her bag, wrapped carefully back inside the foil wrapper. And then—

“Oh hoho,” Tamatoa couldn’t stop himself from cackling appreciatively, despite immediately feeling annoyed with himself as his little human stripped herself of both her leather jacket and cuffed jeans, shifting from foot to foot in the hot sands on the far side of her island in just her cropped orange top and a pair of black smallclothes so small that they were barely worth being worn. Either she sincerely hadn’t noticed him over the past several days— _completely impossible_ , Tamatoa told himself stubbornly—or his little human wasn’t the modest type.

Tamatoa knew which option he preferred.

Next, she was slipping into the warm ocean waters up to her waist, hissing as she sunk all the way in, her sunburns stinging and prickling angrily at her. She pushed off with her feet and paddled the short distance to the next-most adjacent island, rising along the shore and shaking her arms of water before diving back in and heading to the next one, and then repeating the process again until she was far enough away from her home island that Tamatoa had to move as well if he wanted to continue watching—

Uh. _Observing_ _her actions_.

Yes, that.

The final sandbar she did stop at long enough to have a look around, so Tamatoa figured she’d been testing the boundaries of her confinement every day to see if there was anything helpful about and this was now the farthest she’d gotten.

It’s not as though he was expecting to see any flicker of life in her unusual eyes at this point, but even they seemed to darken as she gazed out over the horizon, seeing both nothing new on this island and, additionally, no other landmasses near enough to swim to. Apparently not one to dawdle, she did little more than sigh, mutter some expletive under her breath, and then proceed with a very thorough once-over of the island itself.

She seemed to find something of value in the sand—metallic but not especially shiny—which she slipped into the waistband of her smallclothes before once more setting off for her home island. As she sat out to dry in the itchy scrub grass, she pulled some other tools toward her from her bag and set to work making something with the piece of metal she’d discovered.

Tamatoa left her to her machinations for the rest of the afternoon, only returning once the sun was preparing to set so he could take his usual spot to watch her nightly routine.

She’d set up her fire in record time this evening, giving an experimental shake of her shiny fire rectangle—she seemed to be listening to something inside it—before catching the tinder and blowing against the tiny flame; Tamatoa’s eyes lingered more on the shape of her mouth as she blew than on the embers themselves, which eventually caught on kindling generous enough to cast warm orange and yellow rays across her face. Her eyes never seemed to reflect the fire, even when she was this close to it.

Instead of immediately moving to remove her black box, Tamatoa watched in guarded curiosity as she slumped back, falling onto her butt and supporting her hands in the sand behind her as she swiveled her head this way and that. It was the first time he’d seen her actually watch the sun slip behind the horizon: face still unchanging, almost distant and uninterested.

Then she was fiddling with the cuff on her jeans.

And shucking off her jacket to trace a lazy finger along her tattoos.

Even retrieving a stick from the campfire to twirl about lazily in the darkness now completely coating her island.

But still his little human had not started her music.

Tamatoa lowered even further into his bed of wet sand, content enough to watch her try to entertain herself but also still... concerned?

No. Not concerned.

He was simply _curious_ why she appeared to be... stalling.

As he watched her, now trying to keep her own attention by drawing in the sand with her stick, conspicuously humming to herself, it seemed very clear that she was attempting to draw out her evening ritual with these diversions, despite obviously wanting to start her music.

However, even she seemed to eventually tire of her own distractions.

“Ok, fine,” she grumbled in annoyance, as though someone other than Tamatoa’s own inner voice had yelled at her to just get on with it already. With little more than a pout, she was standing and retrieving her black box, her thumb waking it up and tapping a few times.

Her voice was small and resigned, “Six percent. Even though I didn’t even bother checking it this morning. Fine. Whatever.”

It took several seconds of the music playing before the tension released from under her dark eyelids, but then it was business as usual.

> _[Girl, I've known you very well](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DtxBUp6hBaI) _   
>  _I've seen you growing every day_   
>  _I never really looked before_   
>  _But now you take my breath away_
> 
> _Suddenly you're in my life_   
>  _A part of everything I do_   
>  _You got me workin' day and night_   
>  _Just tryin' to keep a hold on you_

She was really putting everything into her dancing tonight, keeping the same loose style from the first night but also integrating some of the flamboyant, scripted moves from the third, mostly in her hips: gyrating and dipping with exaggerated, enticing movements.

Tamatoa’s pincers clicked and clacked in time to the music, safely under the ocean waves to dampen the sound.

> _Here in your arms I found my paradise_   
>  _My only chance for happiness_   
>  _And if I lose you now, I think I would die_   
>  _Say you'll always be my baby, we can make it shine_   
>  _We can take forever, just a minute at a time_

Tamatoa grinned under the water at her song. He was just enough of a narcissist to assume she kept choosing songs with words like this because she knew he was watching.

> _More than a woman_   
>  _More than a woman to me_   
>  _More than a woman_   
>  _More than a woman to me_

And of course she knew. She had to. Everywhere he went he glittered, and people—monsters and humans alike—took notice.

Even when he was being sneaky like now, he had a presence. It echoed through the world, sparking and tingling like the magic of nighttime—much like her voice echoed and bounced across the waves, tickling at his lonely mind and dragging feeling out of him.

She’d of course been taken in too: He could see it. She was his little human, and she danced and sang every night for him.

> _There are stories old and true_   
>  _Of people so in love like you and me_   
>  _And I can see myself_   
>  _Let history repeat itself_
> 
> _Reflecting how I feel for you_   
>  _And thinking about those people then_   
>  _I know that in a thousand years_   
>  _I'd fall in love with you again_
> 
> _This is the only way that we should fly_   
>  _This is the only way to go_   
>  _And if I lose your love, I know I would die_   
>  _Oh say you'll always be my baby_   
>  _We can make it shine_   
>  _We can take forever, just a minute at a time_

Tamatoa allowed himself to hum quietly along, rocking his shoulders from side to side under the blanket of sand covering him and eye stalks bobbing about, causing little waves to ripple in the water around him. His little human mirrored him on the shore across the otherwise calm waters, her shoulders and hips moving in tandem.

> _More than a woman (you are)_   
>  _More than a woman to me_   
>  _More than a woman (uh my baby)_   
>  _More than a woman to me_
> 
> _More than a woman_   
>  _More than a woman to me (oh so much more)_   
>  _More than a woman (oh baby)_   
>  _More than a woman to me_
> 
> _More than a woman_   
>  _More than a woman to me_   
>  _More than a woman_   
>  _More than a woman to me_
> 
> _More than a woman_

Usually this would be the point when she would quickly tap away at the box’s blue light, before laying down for the night. So much was Tamatoa used to this little routine that he was actually shocked when the black box paused only for a few seconds before launching into another song.

His little human didn’t even stutter, apparently anticipating this new development. Her motions slowed right in time with the change from the more upbeat music to this new, languid song.

It sounded... sadder.

> _[Baby hair with a woman's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOFCTFXn6xE) _   
>  _I can feel you watching in the night_   
>  _All alone with me and we're waiting for the sunlight_   
>  _When I feel cold, you warm me_   
>  _And when I feel I can't go on, you come and hold me_   
>  _It's you and me forever_

Ok, so it was sadder. But also...

Well, Tamatoa wasn’t going to admit the difference it made in him and how he was now looking at his little human. He definitely wouldn’t put it into words, the way her hips turning and dropping with the unhurried pace of the music was—

How the way she ran her fingers through her unkempt, knotted hair—her elbows briefly obscuring her face before she stopped at the crown of her head to hold as many of her curls there as her tiny hands could grip—was extremely—

And that the flickering fire playing across her exposed stomach, despite the skin being red and irritated from her burns, looked rather—

> _Sara smile_   
>  _Won't you smile a while for me, Sara_

But she wasn’t smiling anymore.

There was a frown on her face so conspicuous it was actually leaking into her voice too, which Tamatoa now realized he could hear clearer than ever before.

Was the music fading?

> _If you feel like leaving, you know you can go_   
>  _But why don't you stay until tomorrow?_   
>  _If you want to be free, you know, all you got to do is say so_   
>  _And when you feel cold, I'll warm you_   
>  _And when you feel you can't go on, I'll come and hold you_   
>  _It's you and me forever_
> 
> _Sara smile_   
>  _Won't you smile a while for me, Sara_   
>  _Sara smile_   
>  _Won't you smile a while for me, Sara_

He could barely hear the instrumental portion of the song now. And her movements seemed as though they were urgently trying to encourage the black box to increase its output.

There was that desperation again—both in his little human’s actions, and also, _somehow_ , in his own heart.

> _Smile_   
>  _Won't you smile a while for me, Sara_   
>  _Oh smile a while, won't you—_

The music clicked off mid-verse, so incredibly jarring that even Tamatoa’s little human was surprised. Well, maybe it was more apt to say that she was simply caught off guard, because, if the sudden, unbidden wail of anguish that came from her throat was any indication, she had been waiting for it to happen.

Or perhaps _dreading_ it to happen.

She remained vertical for a few, heavy seconds before falling onto the sand, knees pulled up to her face and wild hair closing around her completely, like a cage. Tamatoa could only hear the terrible cries and moans that wracked her little frame, shaking her so badly he could see her whole form flickering before him.

He was stuck in place, mostly due to not being able to unseat himself from the sand without her hearing him, but also because the very real pain in her voice stilled him. So there he stayed, wishing to look away but finding himself unable.

On and on she cried. It felt like hours. But eventually she began to talk to herself, coughing and hiccupping out tiny, woeful things.

_What am I going to do._

And, _what do I have now._

And then, _I’m never getting off this island. They should have come by now._

And finally, _I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I should just get it over with. I’m going to die._

Oh, _that one_ stuck out, even to someone as unconcerned with other beings as Tamatoa. It was then that his little human removed a hand from clutching her curls in a white-knuckled grip to instead pull something from her jeans pocket, glinting dully in the light of the fire: Not something typically shiny enough to interest Tamatoa, but it was _what_ the thing was that had him moving.

His little human had managed to fashion the metal she’d found earlier into a vicious little knife—not especially deadly, but definitely enough to slice open the wrist she was now inspecting with those dead, dead eyes.

“I really don’t want to, but what choices are left for me?” she asked herself, not realizing there was a fifty-foot crab monster speeding toward her under the waves to answer that question. The only evidence of Tamatoa’s frantic hurry was a rippling on the water, a ripple quite obviously making a bee-line for her spot on the sand.

Tamatoa was retrospectively glad her laser-like attention was directed on the crudely-made knife, as that helped make his feigned nonchalance and charm more believable when he surfaced before her, pincer on the side of his cheek as he leaned an elbow into the sand of the shore. Rising so suddenly that a wide spout of water sprang forth in all directions around him—including directly on top of her—was not part of Tamatoa’s plan, but he kept it from showing on his face: smirk still intact.

Her campfire had just a moment to hiss as it extinguished, her eyes trailing up into his face, before he spoke.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, babe,” Tamatoa said into her stunned face, or at least what he could see of it through the sheets of wet hair sticking to her. “You see, I’m rather fond of this island and wouldn’t much care for you bleeding out onto it. Those stains are a real pain to get out.”

As she stared, mouth hanging open and fingers loosening around the knife so it dropped harmlessly into the sand, there was finally something in her eyes—something other than that unusually light brown void.

There was a glint of astonishment—maybe even fear—so complete that even _she_ couldn’t deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to anyone who got the reference from the third night's song/dance (the "scripted"-looking one)! Drop me a comment if you know what I was alluding to. Tama's an old man and wouldn't know, but us modern dudes know what's up.
> 
> Hope you're all enjoying! Probably be another chap next weekend.


	3. No Harbor Was His Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sober Ariel here! I'm actually posting a little early because I'm just about to *leave* to become *less* sober, lol. Friend is having a party to celebrate it finally fuckin being summer after an exceedingly wet spring in the dumpster fire that is the midwest rn. Hope you're all having a lovely day, and--again--thank you for the comments/kudos/hits! It truly brightens my day.
> 
> If anyone was still curious about it, the dance I was referencing in the last chapter is from the opening of Guardians of the Galaxy, when Star Lord dances to the same song. I may tease Tamatoa for being a bit of a dork, but the human ain't exactly guiltless either. lmao
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter! Next one'll be next week.

**As Long as It’s About Me**

_Chapter 3 – No Harbor Was His Home_

_“Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)” by Looking Glass_

 

Fear hadn’t been what Tamatoa was aiming for but it was at least familiar territory, which he was grateful enough for since—as if it weren’t completely obvious—friendly, flirty conversation with a human was certainly not something he had experience with. That was pretty much by choice, but his past certainly wasn’t serving him any favors right now.

Tamatoa _hated_ feeling like he wasn’t in control. Like he didn’t know exactly what would happen next—

She was screaming.

Ok, so that made sense; most humans tended to do that upon seeing him. Not that he could blame them: He was truly incredible. Terrifying, yes. Monstrous, sure. Beautiful, went without saying. That’s a lot to process all at once, so the tiny human brain always went first to shrieking.

He didn’t particularly want her to scream, though. But damn if she hadn’t _forced_ him to play fast and loose with the meet-cute.

Tamatoa decided to just wait her out. Eventually all humans ran out of breath—they were all such fragile things, had such _fragile little lungs_ , despite being engineered for little more than constant babbling to each other and yelling at monsters they were unlucky enough to come across. Ah, but it was the opposite for his little human! She was _lucky_ to have caught his attention! She just didn’t know it yet.

He’d wait for her to realize it.

There, she was quieting down now. And reaching for that dinky little knife again, pointed directly at him and held between both of her little hands. It was still quivering somehow, despite this. Tamatoa chuckled.

That was quite cute.

“Oh hoho, it would take a lot more than that toothpick to kill me, babe,” he said, meeting her eyes and marveling at the life they now held. Funny to think that it was the threat of death that brought it out of her, given what she was considering doing to herself just moments ago. She opened and closed her mouth loudly, much like a fish does on dry land, but, despite her intention obviously being to try to make sound, she was totally clammed up.

Tamatoa continued to speak, remaining still so as not to spook her, “Luckily for you, I’m not here to eat you.” At the word “eat” her pupils shrunk to pinpricks and her breathing hitched so hard her next breath was loud over her teeth and ragged.

“Why—why not?” she finally spoke, which very nearly sounded like a challenge. She seemed to realize this a moment later, because she was quickly stumbling over herself to amend her question, “I m-mean: What the fuck are you?”

Deciding he liked his little human’s candor—or was it just her spunk?—Tamatoa chortled lowly again, sliding the joint on the leg holding his head further up the shore to draw closer, so near that he was practically looming above her now.

“I’m a ‘who,’ not a ‘what,’ _mon petit_ ,” he said coyly, not even bothering to bat away the knife she had raised on instinctive impulse alone in the direction his throat. “And if you somehow didn’t already know it, the name’s Tamatoa.”

Incredibly the fear left her face to instead be replaced by confusion. She took a couple of quick breaths, eyes darting over the rest of him, now glowing only very slightly in the moon-bright night.

Yes, thought Tamatoa, take it all in.

“I feel like,” she started, losing concentration on her fear entirely and nearly dropping the knife, “I feel like I _should_ know giant, talking coconut crabs exist. But—”

“Not crabs _, plural_ , babe. Just _this_ crab!” Tamatoa interrupted, a little spark of conceit eking into his tone. His little human’s eyes narrowed slightly, seeming to notice. He continued, “There ain’t no one—man or monster—like Tamatoa.”

“I’m not arguing that,” she quipped almost humorously, but her expression shifted to be contrite when she noticed it had angered him. The words were very pretty, but Tamatoa wasn’t deaf to her tone. “Surely your name would be known to me if I was from around these parts, though. A standout being like yourself must garner all the locals’ attentions,” she revised, correctly guessing that flattery would at least get her something.

Or, in the case when dealing with Tamatoa: just about anything.

Pacified immediately by her sycophancy, disingenuine or not, Tamatoa shifted once more to lower his head and sag languidly into the sand, about as close to her level as he could get. He then coiled an arm skillfully behind her, which, if she noticed, she didn’t let show on her face as she tried to keep up a carefully deferential countenance.

“Oh go on,” Tamatoa prodded at her when she seemed to have lost her voice. Her left brow quirked only slightly before she took a breath, released it, and then took another.

“I mean,” she began, voice small and unsure, but quizzical. As Tamatoa perked up in anticipation of further praise, her body language deviated to reflect the changing atmosphere, immersing herself in a calculated casualness Tamatoa merely took as flirtatious. “Well, just _look_ at you. Honestly, to have not previously known the name of such a singular, shimmering individual? Gosh, I’m embarrassed for my serious gap in knowledge. Truly.”

He burrowed further into the sand—it being warmed by the campfire so near, and himself by her complimentary words. Tamatoa’s eyes lidded as she maintained their eye contact, “You’re quite good with words, human; so I suppose you can be forgiven. Anything else?”

“Uh—” she faltered, diverting his attention away from her stutter by flinging her knife down, blade first, into the sand beside her fire. It was far enough away that it wasn’t readily accessible to her, but she could certainly still leap for it. “ _Well_. Forgive my momentary speechlessness as I try to find just the right way to express my unmitigated awe. The sheer spectacle of you is almost too much to comprehend.” Tamatoa chuckled at her.

“Why don’t you take a moment to consider it then _, mon poéte_ ,” he let it appear as though he was letting her off the hook, but he really just wanted her to look at him more. Having her eyes pass over him, like he’d known no other creature to do for millennia, was a treat he’d very much like to savor. She obediently cast her eyes back across the rest of his impressive form, mouth slightly open as she tried to catch her breath, which had been short since he’d made his appearance. It was nearly electric, watching her gaze trace his body.

He distracted her only a moment from her task when he used one of his antennae to push back her wet hair so it no longer obscured her face from him. She acted like he hadn’t, however.

“So if I’m a poet, then,” she seemed to whisper mostly to herself after a minute’s contemplation, finally returning her gaze to meet his before she continued. “I’d compare you to something truly marvelous and mystifying.”

“Like what?” Tamatoa probed, content enough with those descriptors themselves but not wanting to let her off without coming up with an appropriate comparison first.

If his original intention had just been to sidetrack the human from her suicidal woe: mission accomplished. However, he found himself rather fond of his little human’s earnest, if slightly haphazard, adulation and he wanted to squeeze just a bit more of it from her while she was— _quite literally—_ a captive audience for him.

“Are you familiar with—no, I suppose you might not be,” she started, before rethinking. Tamatoa was immediately a bit huffy to be discounted before he could even prove himself and used an antenna to turn her chin back to his face when her line of sight drifted thoughtfully back toward the fire.

“Try me, babe. I know a lot more than you seem to think I might.”

The thought of _ah, right: giant talking crab monster_ seemed to pass over her face like a shadow before she cleared her throat and began again, “Renaissance paintings.”

“And what about renaissance paintings?” Tamatoa asked, voice low and inquisitive to show he knew what she was alluding to. As she began to explain herself, he made to start soundlessly inching his claw closer.

“The thing about renaissance art, religious paintings in particular, is that they’re inherently _busy_ —like, everywhere you look there’s something new and interesting to consider. Every single inch is something different; nothing wasted.”

“Go on,” he continued, voice silky as his pincer neared her back. She relaxed back onto her palms and Tamatoa smirked as he interpreted it as her relaxing in his presence—giving herself over to him.

“More than just being massive in scale and subject,” she continued, mouth lifting in a bit of a smile that had Tamatoa’s heart hammering irresponsibly, “They’re full of color: such amazingly saturated, _striking_ color. Even after all the years since they were created.”

Either she was going out on a limb about his age—a safe enough bet given his monstrous size, as he had not _always_ been so impressive—or there was something primordial and ancient enough about his semblance that communicated it to her without him needing to say so. Tamatoa chose to interpret it as the latter.

This time she continued without prompting, seemingly settling into her role of praising him, “And they’re the first most examples of intentional, creative chiaroscuro, playing on the interplay between light and dark: day and night, good and evil,” she paused, lids heavy as she looked up at him through her lashes, “Desire and danger.”

Tamatoa felt a low chuckle start in his throat but silenced it as she continued.

“Your bioluminescence is the perfect illustration—well, _just in general_ —” she seemed to divert her own thought with a coquettish roll of her eyes before focusing back on his face, “But in addition to just being _fascinating_ to admire, it reminds me so much of that principle. It fleshes out your form: makes you even more of a presence that you already appear to be. You fill the complete range of my vision.”

Tamatoa stilled his advances, caught genuinely off-guard by her compliments.

“Not that I could look away, anyway,” she added, simply just to pierce his heart with another arrow on top of the ones she’d already let fly at him.

“Yeah?” Tamatoa intoned rather weakly, claw frozen in place and stopping just short of its intended end.

“Truly,” she verified, voice lilting and eyes drooping as she loosed one of her legs and let it come to reside precariously near his face, “You’re obviously a king among men. I’ve never seen a specimen even close to rivaling you, Tamatoa.”

As quickly as his heart had been beating, gaining in speed exponentially the longer she stared him down, it suddenly choked. And not in a good way. Although not inherently bad, there was something about the way she said the word “specimen” that sounded rather... diminutive to Tamatoa.

“Specimen, hmm?” he asked with displeasure, causing her face to fall a fraction as though she hadn’t predicted his rebuke.

“Oh,” she breathed, pupils shrinking again, like they had when he’d first appeared. “Jargon, sorry. Comes with being a marine biologist.”

Tamatoa wasn’t sure why this explanation was meant to have him come around to her again; if she really was a scientist, then she was smart enough to know he wouldn’t appreciate being compared to some animal under a microscope. Pride further wounded, he bared his teeth and growled lowly, “So you think I’m just some new curiosity to study, is that it, human?”

This time she seemed actually rather affronted, eyebrows furrowing and mouth very nearly pouting.

“Are you calling my words into question?” she demanded, crossing her arms but straightening to better glare at him. Tamatoa recoiled in surprise as she actually stood and walked right into his personal space, scowl reflecting in her tone well enough to tell him she was angry with him, even though her proximity had now given him the ability to see every minute, fierce feature of her face in clear detail.

“When I said I’ve never seen anything like you, I meant it; and that much should be obvious. I’ve been complimenting you endlessly and now you’re just going to cherry-pick the one sour term I slipped up with?”

Tamatoa was startled by this rapid about-face in her attitude, cowed by her stance despite still being puny in comparison to him. It seemed his little human had a prideful streak as well.

But she wasn’t done.

“Do you want more?” her tone was combative, almost threatening, but Tamatoa found he... quite liked it. She pivoted to look at him through the sides of her eyes, shoulders inclining toward him sharply.

“Should I next admire the ethereal glow of your bioluminescent shell, like the moon in the night sky? How staggered I am to think how many photophores you must have to shine like that?”

Well he wouldn’t object to hearing more—

“How the complimentary colors of your exoskeleton make it impossible for you to blend in or hide—which would _typically_ be disadvantageous, but _in actuality_ indicates that you have no predators to match your strength?”

Why was her clinical, scientific critique somehow the most attractive thing she’d yet said—

“That your eyes are something I’ve never seen on another arthropod?”

 Is that how she’d classify him, were he one of her “specimens” and not a monstrous, magical—

“That they’re so weirdly, incredibly blue I can’t fucking believe it? As blue as the blood pumping through your body? Is that what you want, Tamatoa?”

Yes! yes, gods, that is definitely what he wanted to hear.

He would have no way to guess it before now, but the quiver in both his heart and his body had Tamatoa realizing a whole new side of himself he hadn’t known existed. Her tone was severe, cutting, and direct: There was no poetry here. And the way she was describing him was totally animalistic—that is to say, not _sexually_ , but as though he _were an animal_. That in particular seemed to wake something primal in Tamatoa, even though it had just moments ago bruised his ego to be treated as such. Maybe it was the way his little human had explained it, and how she was glowering stubbornly into his face, unblinking, the entire time.

Tamatoa squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze, but not because _he_ was uncomfortable, but rather because that sitting still was making him itch. It was that he now... wanted... her to touch him. To touch her himself. To have that willful, brazen, tempting face underneath him. It was suddenly agonizing him.

“Please _excuse_ your little poet for not putting it in the form of an analogy this time, but I think we’re beyond that now.”

He’d forgive her _anything_ if she kept calling herself “his” like that.

“So. Do you get it now,” she said with finality, not so much asking his opinion as she was making it clear that she was done and would entertain no further skepticism.

Oh yes, he got it now.

And what he _got_ is that, if anything, his little human had been _beguiling him_ this entire time, not the other way around. Even if her words were true—and it instantly broke Tamatoa’s heart to even _consider_ that she had hypnotized him so completely with dirty lies—it was still apparent who was worshipping who here.

“So, what’s your name?” Tamatoa squeaked submissively as this realization smacked him in the face. She definitely noticed the immediate change in his demeanor, allowing a moment of bewilderment to creased her nose between her eyes before she was smiling amorously, but victoriously, at him.

The thought that he’d never seen teeth so bright and shiny, even in the dark of night, nearly distracted Tamatoa from her answer, “Like every girl with a sentimental dad like mine, I was named after a song.”

He was suddenly aching for her to sing it instead of speak it.

“You can call me Sadie, big guy.”

Sweet, sweet Sadie: his little human—or at least she had been, before she claimed his heart with her expectedly sparkling eyes. At this point, Tamatoa was fairly certain _he_ was _her_ big, bad monster.

_[Those eyes could steal him from the sea.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVx8L7a3MuE) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally headcannon tough, selfish, full-of-themselves types (ie: Tamatoa, Underfell Sans, Guzma, etc.) to be submissive as hell when actually confronted with someone who can keep up with them and their ego. He gets ahold of himself next chapter, though... well at least a little bit. lol


	4. Sweet Sadie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I crib an idea from another Tamatoa/OC fic in this chapter: namely how Tamatoa seems to know more you'd think he would, for a giant crab monster living deep down in Lalotai. I take absolutely no credit for the idea, and wanted to point yall toward [Fool's Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893268/chapters/37037316) by HazardousFancy for the inspiration on that particular idea. It's a minor point in this story, but credit where's it due!
> 
> **ALSO, very brief CW for mentions of parental death** toward the end of the chapter. Again, not touched on too heavily, but it's there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears! Wanted to start off with a quick heartfelt thanks to everyone for your continued support! All the kudos/comments/hits this story gets continue to utterly amaze me. You guys is my people, and I love you.
> 
> Not much news, so I guess I'll just leave it at that. Next chapter next weekend! Hope you all enjoy.

**As Long as It’s About Me**

_Chapter 4 – Sweet Sadie_

_“Sadie” by The Spinners_

 

“You gonna ask what song, big guy? Everyone always wants to know.”

Tamatoa swallowed hurriedly to rid himself of the dryness spreading rapidly down his throat the longer his little human— _Sadie_ —looked at him, the corner of her mouth quirked upward directly parallel with her brow.

He managed a feeble nod, mouth firmly clamped shut and refusing to cooperate long enough to form words.

“Heard of The Spinners?” she asked, seemingly expecting him to nod to that as well. But unfortunately, Tamatoa apparently hadn’t eaten a human with historically-recent enough knowledge to shed light on what “The Spinners” was supposed to mean.

It had certainly been a while since a human had last managed to survive the plummet to Lalotai long enough for Tamatoa to find them and then consume them for their memory—he wasn’t _against_ eating humans just for the sustenance (it was a nice break from the monotony of fish and various Lalotai beasts he’d come across), but it was this quirk of his magic that was his priority.

It didn’t work on something already dead, but if he caught himself a human strong enough to not drown—and then not get immediately eaten by anything else—Tamatoa could then, _literally_ , ingest everything they’d once known. It’s how he knew to call her, his charming little human, _mon petit charmeur_. How he understood her metaphor for renaissance art. And, that is to say, how he was even communicating with her at all in her native language.

But apparently, despite being several thousands of years old and having devoured countless human minds, he had still found himself significantly out of touch.

Sadie actually looked a little disappointed that he wasn’t acknowledging her question; she seemed to have genuinely expected him to understand, perhaps given his frustrated outburst to her previously doubting him. And while he didn’t want to disappoint his little human, he was _still_ Tamatoa! And no one looked at Tamatoa like he was lesser.

He puffed up a little with indignation, finally sensing himself begin to acclimate to the new sensations she was forcing him to feel and once more regaining a hold of his ego.

“If I’m such a ‘king among men,’” he mocked with only mild derision meant, “Then I surely can’t be expected to know everything about _everything_ you humans get up to.” There, that was a perfectly possible—no, a perfectly _true_ —explanation.

Sadie’s smile twisted a little in what very dangerously resembled amusement, but she agreed without comment on the childish way he’d asserted it, “Of course not, Your Excellency.”

Even Tamatoa knew she was riding the line of irreverence, but he still rather hoped she might continue using the title. If only so he could, _eventually_ , _somehow_... _convince_ her it was fitting. Oh yes, and convince her he would. Over and over, if necessary.

Or if he just decided he liked it.

Tamatoa was so spellbound by his own optimistic forecast of the lust he’d someday drive her to that his little human ended up taking his preoccupation as permission to simply continue.

“Anyway, they’re a band from the 70s my dad was really into,” she supplied with a flippant wave of her wrist, “A lot of kids my age were named after songs. I’m the only one I’ve yet met named for the one I was, however.”

Shaking himself of his pleasant daydream, Tamatoa fixed both of his eyes on his little human. “Haven’t heard of them. Or the song.”

“That’s too bad; even I have to admit it’s a good one,” she smiled slightly, before her face fell, eyes downcast, “I actually have it on my phone. I’d play it for you, but...”

“You mean that thing? What’d you call it?” Tamatoa asked as she trailed off and pulled the little black box from her pocket. She made a curious, slightly accusatory face at the question, as though she found it suspicious.

“Yes I mean ‘this thing,’” she said, waving it around a bit carelessly, “Do you know about cell phones?”

He didn’t, and he also didn’t have much to gain from trying to lie about it, so instead he elected for honesty, “Nope.”

Sadie squinted her eyes a little at him and Tamatoa could practically hear the question knocking about in her pretty little head. But she let it go.

“Anyway…” she continued, giving him one last long look before dropping the matter, “I was already on pretty low battery power when I crashed here and the thing finally gave up the ghost just a bit ago. Actually, just… before…” And the suspicion was already back on her face. Tamatoa shriveled a little under her glower and felt her clawing the truth out of him.

“Alright so maybe all the noise you were making with that thing drew my attention and I came to check it out.”

Sadie wasn’t outwardly shocked by this revelation, but her gaze did drift a little in thought. Maybe she was considering her past few days on the island, and the ever-present sense of being watched she’d felt.

Tamatoa could only guess that this might be what she thinking on as she, once more, didn’t share; but even still, she only let it distract her but a moment.

“So I take it you can’t play the song because your little black box there isn’t working?” Tamatoa cleared his throat and continued. Sadie made an absentminded noise of confirmation in her mouth and held the device out to him to look at.

“Basically,” she verified, giving the thing a reproachful look as he examined it, as though it had wronged her, “I can use it to contact people too—like the rest of my team. Or, in theory I could. But I don’t have signal out this far, and…”

“And?” Tamatoa prodded as he admired his likeness in the device’s faintly reflective front, but glanced back into her face when she didn’t continue. It was now that he noticed the dire sadness he’d been trying to chase away creeping back into her features.

“And. They,” she sighed, but it hitched a little at the end, making her scratch a finger, nail polish chipped and faded, at the corner of her eye, “They probably didn’t… survive.”

“Oh,” Tamatoa intoned lightly, not knowing how to respond. He hadn’t anticipated communicating with his little human to be this challenging, but here she was already again pushing at the boundaries of his social comprehension. There hadn’t ever been a time in his life when he’d needed to… comfort? Yes, _comfort_ another being. No one had ever been worth it before now.

But now Tamatoa was cursing his inexperience, and, incredibly, wishing he _had_ found anyone else before now as having earned his empathy—if only so he could have had some practice for this moment. But alas.

Oh gods, she was crying. Why do the humans _always cry_? This was so much worse than when she’d screamed at him.

“Christ, I’m sorry,” his little human wept, frustrated with her own showing of fragility and rubbing her knuckles into her eyes as though she could tighten the gushing spigot of tears she’d unintentionally released. “I don’t—don’t want to do this.”

“Oh—um,” Tamatoa grappled uselessly at words as her tears only increased in ferocity and she slumped back down into the sand, knees bent and legs splayed out in opposite directions.

“This is s-so embarrass-s-sing,” she hiccupped, giving up trying to rub her eyes dry and instead just covering her face with her tiny, trembling hands, “You don’t e-even _know_ me.”

Well, sure he didn’t. Not _yet_. But he’d like to.

Deciding that if he couldn’t find any comforting words for her, he’d just _show_ her that it was _perfectly normal_ for her to cry. It was very on-brand for humans to cry when shipwrecked on a deserted island, knowing their closest friends had died a horrible, wet, salty death.

Tamatoa made a hum of disagreement as he moved his claw carefully around her back, antenna once more shifting her drying curtain of hair behind her ear. It seemed to be the right thing, as she leaned into his light, wary touch almost subconsciously.

“I _never_ _cry_ in front of other people,” she continued to defend herself, and he could practically hear the wounded pride in her tone; but at least now she seemed to be calming. “Not even in-n front of dad—”

Aaand that seemed to be the _wrong_ thing. But in Tamatoa’s defense, he hadn’t been the one to screw up: Sadie had triggered this herself. That is to say, her quieting, hiccupping snuffles had again started with renewed energy as she coiled back into herself, bent nearly in half and shaking from top to bottom with sobs.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” Tamatoa repeated softly in what was hopefully a soothing tone, eyes darting all over the island and the mockingly silent waves as though he could search the landscape for the answer of what to say to his little human to calm her down. He tilted his face to try to see past her hands, clamped so dangerously hard to her face that she seemed to be having trouble breathing.

It was such a violent, sudden reaction that, despite being as emotionally unintelligent as he was, Tamatoa could only infer that it wasn’t just friends she’d lost during the storm that had capsized her boat: she’d lost a father too.

Family wasn’t something Tamatoa understood anymore. But, _even he_ had once loved a grandmother.

…before he’d laboriously devoured her over the course of one lengthy, protracted week.

A memory like that endures, even centuries— _millennia_ —later.

Tamatoa snapped himself back to reality with an uncomfortable shiver.

“Hey, babe,” he started, voice still soft, mindful. She didn’t respond, but her breath hitched again—three quick gasps—to show she had at least heard him. He paused before once more trying to get her attention, “Sadie.”

That did it. His little human peered up at him from behind her hands, her fingers like mountain peaks obstructing the rising binary suns of her eyes—they were red and puffy, and still swimming so thickly with tears that she could drown in them. But she was listening now.

Tamatoa realized it must have been him using her given name for the first time.

“What was your dad like?”

Tamatoa realized a little too late that using the past tense to discuss her father was perhaps thoughtlessly callous, but she didn’t seem to notice the faux pas; in fact, her eyes were almost glowing with a sudden appreciation.

“He—” she stopped to hiccup a few times before rubbing at her eyes and leaning back against his pincer, face a little dreamy despite the splotchy, red patches patterned it. “He was the _best_ dad.”

He angled his head to indicate he was listening and Sadie continued.

“He was so smart. It’s how he and my mom got together—they met in grad school. And I always looked up to both of them for it, but he was just more… upfront about being smarter than you,” she gave a little, watery laugh at that and Tamatoa smirked encouragingly.

“He’s how I got here—well, not _here_ here. Not exactly. Well, not _directly_ ,” she seemed to waffle with what she was meaning to say and simply discarded the thought altogether, “But, I found myself doing this work because I wanted to be like him: do as he did. He was my role model, both as a person and as a scholar.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest and reclined against him in earnest, chin titled into her collar but eyes not leaving his.

“But he was also so _stupidly_ sentimental,” she laughed more sincerely, “Hence my name. The song—it was just called ‘Sadie’—made him think of his mom, and he wanted me to turn out just as sweet as her. Never got to meet her, but the stories he told were so full of love that I felt like I’d gotten some kind of secondhand experience of her just from how much he missed her.”

She was winding down, her eyes drifting toward the fire. Tamatoa watched the dying flames flicker weakly over her face and, upon seeing just a bit of a sparkle in her eyes, he felt himself speaking without meaning to, “I obviously didn’t know your dad, but… I know he’d be proud of you, _mon petit_.”

“Oh you do, do you?” she asked rather coyly, turning back to him. Tamatoa felt something very like a flush on his face.

“Well sure!” he defended, then: “You’re obviously very brave, to have survived this, all while still keeping your spirit.”

Sadie was a bit surprised with his praise, especially since it seemed to be several margins more honest and unguarded than anything he’d yet said to her.

“W-well, for a human, that is,” Tamatoa quickly amended, which had her giggling uncontrollably after a tick of silence. “What’s so funny?”

She covered her mouth with a hand but couldn’t hide the mirth blossoming across the rest of her face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at _you_! Just, at _us_ , I suppose.”

“Oh? _Us_?” Tamatoa tried to sound suggestive, suave. But he mostly just sounded hopelessly hopeful. Sadie didn’t pick up on it, however.

“Yeah, we both seem to be more than a _bit_ prideful,” she clarified, causing him to duck his head slightly in annoyance, “But don’t worry—while I’ve been told numerous times to curb it, lest I wind up alone and miserable, it’s _cute_ on you.”

_Cute_? Oh gods, don’t do this to him.

He must be the softest crab in all of Lalotai to be gooified just from his little human calling him “cute.”

“You know,” Sadie started again, suddenly looking a little shy, “My most favorite thing about my dad was how he would always sing that song to me, especially when I was a kid.”

“The one you’re named for?” She nodded.

“Yeah. He had to be gone a lot when I was young—always out in the field, sometimes for weeks at a time. But before he’d leave, and before I’d end phone calls with him each night, he and mom would sing the last refrains of the song to me. Dad always took the—heh— _soulful_ parts.”

Tamatoa twitched nervously before deciding to trust her and ask of her what he truly wanted, “You want to… sing it? Even though your—what did you call it? Your ‘phone?’—isn’t working?” She continued to smile in that small, uncharacteristically bashful way. “I mean, it might _make you feel better_. Honor your dad. All that,” he backpedaled, despite knowing she’d see right through it.

Instead of answering his weak justifications, she just took a breath and began to sing, keeping her eyes on him and freezing him in-place with the megaton weight held within them.

> _[Sadie, it's a mean world without you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hb92Uh3mQLw) _   
>  _Don't you know we love you_   
>  _Sweet Sadie, all the love you showed_   
>  _Place no one above you_
> 
> _Sweet Sadie_   
>  _Living in the past_   
>  _Ain't it funny that in the end it's not money_   
>  _It's just the love you gave us all_

Tamatoa couldn’t even be bothered to feel ashamed for feeling so massively turned on by a song his little human’s father used to sing to her to comfort her while he was away. But, given the way she was smiling at him, so warm and enchanting and provocative, he was honestly starting to wonder if she wasn’t _just_ doing it to fuck with his feelings… _and other things_.

Maybe she actually meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, also! Gonna (finally, ahem) be cross-posting on my tumblr now (link in the note below), including a concept image for Sadie. Come check it out! 
> 
> ALso memes. I reblog so many goddamn memes.


	5. When the Waves Turn Minutes to Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you, as always, for all the comments/kudos/hits! Last chapter didn't get as much conversation as previous chapters, so I hope I make up for it with this week's. It's extra long, wink wink nudge nudge hint hint monsterfuckin hint.  
> Nah, not actually. Not *yet* anyway. But we got hella progress on the confrontation-of-sexy-feelings-for-monster front today. 
> 
> Shout out to Katherine Collins for commenting a few suggestions of songs for this story. I use one in this chapter, because it was juuuuust perfect.
> 
> Hope yall enjoy. much love!  
> (this chapter was a little hard to write, so it's a little late. only got one pass for editing and I'm coming off of being drunk af, so lemme know if I missed any big ol errors or plot holes)

**As Long as It’s About Me**

_Chapter 5 – When the Waves Turn Minutes to Hours_

_“The Wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot_

 

There was something bothering Tamatoa. And it surprisingly _wasn’t_ his little human refusing to look away from him as he squirmed—well, that wasn’t helping anything either, but it was actually a thought tickling at the back of his brain that made him finally break their sustained silence.

“So when I came across you, you were bursting into tears as your phone ‘died,’” Tamatoa began, finally causing Sadie to look ashamedly away from him and allowing him to regain some ground between them, “Seems like the kind of reaction more befitting the loss of a family member than the loss of some lighty-up black box.”

Sadie huffed and refused to look back to him. But she did at least answer him, “I don’t care about the phone itself. It’s because… because…”

“Be- _cauuuuse_ …?” Tamatoa mocked her a little, nudging her back with his pincer—which she was still leaned against despite the flush of annoyance tinging her cheeks.

“Because I wouldn’t have my music anymore, ok? Because it was the one thing I gave myself to look forward to each night, and that helped a bit. Alright?” Now she swiveled her face back to him, glaring darkly. But Tamatoa just found it precious. “It was a little thing, but… it helped,” she repeated, seemingly for lack of a better way to explain herself.

“Must be important to you; I suppose I can understand. A bit,” Tamatoa smirked at her, causing her face to redden even more, “But I’m not so dependent on some strange device, of course. I provide my _own_ music.”

Sadie quirked an eyebrow at him, her face still glowing in embarrassment but fading a little as her attentions were diverted. “Oh yeah?”

Tamatoa puffed with pride, knowing he’d managed to steer the conversation back toward his favorite topic of conversation: Himself. And his gifts.

“I’ll forgive you for the doubt in your voice, _mon petit_. But yes: I’m quite the musical crustacean. Tamatoa is a monster of many talents,” he said it like a promise, voice low and roiling with a husky edge.

She laughed a tiny, tinkling little laugh and beamed at him, obviously believing his assertions but not quite letting on whether she’d noticed the intended tone. Only the miniscule, twisting corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

“Well then you’ll have to show me sometime.”

Tamatoa would have immediately offered to do just that after her very pointed come-on, but Sadie was already backing off it. What a tease.

“Hell, we’ll put on a complete fucking _concert_ together if I ever get myself off this damn island and charge my battery,” she grumbled, pushing sand idly about with her bare feet, making little piles before stomping them flat again just for something to do.

“What’s your plan on that?” Tamatoa asked, curious to hear her answer. Sadie, as in-control as she seemed to constantly be—aside from her occasional emotional breakdown—would surely have some kind of strategy worked out. And maybe, if her idea was convincing enough, he might find himself helping her with it.

Maybe. If something was in it for him, that is.

That went without saying.

She stopped her fidgeting but didn’t meet his eyes, instead choosing to scoot over to her campfire to stoke the embers. Tamatoa squinted at her, recognizing that she was taking a while to answer him. He could discount her silence as concentration while she was caring for the fire, which had nearly burned itself out both from time and—more likely—from being almost completely doused when he’d surfaced. 

It was only once she started re-cuffing her jeans that he finally recognized her familiar pattern of stalling.

“You don’t have a plan,” he deadpanned perhaps a little heartlessly—a sentiment Sadie herself would likely have agreed with, given the scorned little pout she sat him with.

“Hey, I’ve been trying what I could!” she defended, jabbing an accusatory finger in his face, which was surely a rather difficult feat while keeping her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was all harsh angles and dangerous shadows. But even still, Tamatoa couldn’t withhold the slightly dopey grin from his face at the look of her. She was just too adorable.

“Every morning and afternoon I’d turn my phone back on to try to catch some service and call for help. I explored every damn island in this chain to find anything to help with that—which I was never successful in, thank you very much—or to see if I could get anywhere by swimming. I was _also_ collecting rocks to make an SOS big enough that a plane or helicopter could spot it from overhead.” And she moved her finger out of his face to some indiscernible place inland, apparently where she’d been stowing the aforementioned materials for her message.

Admittedly, Tamatoa wasn’t quite coming up with anything else his little human could have done beyond those things. At least, nothing else _she herself_ could have done.

...He supposed he could, _maybe_ , still help her. Even though she didn’t have the foolproof plan he’d expected.

Nevermind that he was only arguing this with himself, as no one _other than_ himself had been privy to that arbitrary stipulation.

“Honestly,” his little human sighed, drawing his attention back to reality from the war he’d been waging in his own head, “I should have already been rescued by now. Our travel path was predetermined and the research station we were headed to knew when to expect us: which was nearly a week ago now.”

Tamatoa peered down at her as she distractedly ran her hands through her tangled hair. “So why haven’t your ‘research station’ buddies come for you?”

“Oh I’m sure they’ve tried,” Sadie chuckled humorlessly, “The fact that they _haven’t found me_ indicates that I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

Her answer was cryptic, but he could see what she was getting at and waited for her to finish the thought she seemed to be reluctantly piecing together in real-time before him, both for him and well as herself.

“We must have gone off track from our scheduled route—by at least enough that no one can find me, but, more probably, by even more than that. There hasn’t been any traffic at all, either by ocean or air, and that is straight-up unusual,” she snorted and rolled her eyes, “Totally typical for me, though.”

“Why’s that?” Tamatoa probed, finding the comment strange. She smirked at him, but it was derisive and lacked any warmth.

“I have _the worst_ luck, big guy. If the whole ‘shipwrecked on a tiny, deserted island with no way off’ thing didn’t immediately make it obvious.”

Luck, huh? It was weird to consider that a girl as capable as her would put any stock in something as intangible as _luck_.

“Well,” Tamatoa spoke before his ego could stop him from doing it, “Just call me your big, shiny good luck charm, then, _mon petit_.” She blinked up at him, eyes so sweetly wide and saucer-like that he couldn’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed by his words. He’d own it—making himself into some little human’s servant, that is—if she would always be that adorably surprised by it.

“What do you mean?”

He held a claw to his chin, tapping at the barnacles there as if deep in thought, as though he hadn’t already planned this out as the ultimate end goal of approaching her.

“I think we could... _help_ each other. We’re of course talking a fair exchange of services here,” he began, putting a deliberate, transactional look on his face even as he felt himself lose a bit of a grip on his voice in excitement, his heart fluttering.

His little human bit her bottom lip very slightly, her eyes lowering to the ground as she threaded her fingers together and clutched both her hands to her chest.

So shy.

“I’ll help you get back to the mainland—your choice of which, I can get you anywhere you need to go; wouldn’t even be hard for someone as great as me,” he outright boasted, feeling emboldened when her eyes weren’t trained directly on him. She tilted her head demurely, staring down at her feet as she dug them into the sand.

So cute.

“But I’ll first, _of course_ , need you to do a little something for me, _mon petit charmeur_.” The pet name suddenly had her face reddening, very slightly.

So sweet. Sweet little Sadie.

“Wh-what did you have in mind? On _my_ end, I mean,” she stuttered briefly before lifting her eyes again, her blush deepening upon seeing his smirk.

What was she anticipating him to ask for, he wondered?

“I need something only a little human such as yourself can help me with,” he responded vaguely, trying to get her to reveal what she was imagining. His intention was of course an ambiguous entendre, but he was extremely curious to see how far his little human would interpret it.

And, thusly, how far he could run with it.

She took a moment and a deep breath, Tamatoa’s heart clenching in anticipation, before peeking at him from behind her dark lashes, smile subtle but teasing. “Then I’ll do my very best to complete my task to a... _satisfactory_ end.”

On the spectrum of this conversation, with one side being the unfeeling, cold calculation of a business deal, and the other polar opposite end being heated, verbal foreplay before rabid, impassioned fucking, Sadie had somehow found the exact middle point—where she leaned toward neither option, gave nothing at all away.

The result was indeed _dis_ satisfaction on Tamatoa’s end, but he was in a good enough mood that he simply let it roll off his back to instead add to the thickening white noise of sexual frustration buzzing around his brain.

And, he reasoned, her even wording it as she had meant she at least hadn’t written off the more... _salacious_ choice.

Oh hoho. He could work with that.

“Well then, let’s get started on your end of the bargain, my dear,” he chuckled, voice as teasing as her smile. She looked very definitely shocked a moment before burying it. But her face was once again quickly morphing, this time in confusion, when Tamatoa rose from the beach, shaking himself loose of sand, and scuttled slowly toward the water.

“I hope you’re not... expecting me to follow you somewhere. Well, somewhere _beyond_ the constraints of this island.”

Tamatoa just swiveled his head to smirk at her retort and wave her over beside him, “No. Just to the edge of the beach.” She obeyed his summons without further pouting, coming to stand in the warm ocean water at about mid-calf height, head turned up to him questioningly.

“Ok, bit of a lie,” he quipped, sure to continue before she began to worry that he’d simply lured her toward the water so he could kill her in a more familiar environment, “We’re going to have to do a bit of travelling. But you’re going by boat, since I’m not the _best_ swimmer and I doubt humans have evolved to breathe in water. It may have been a few millennia since I lasted bothered to chat with one, but I feel safe in that assertion.”

She glanced at the glassy waters of the expansive ocean, her eyes reflecting the fear humans classically felt at the prospect of not being able to breathe, before turning them back to him. “You’re right—both in assuming that I can’t survive out in the ocean and that, of course, I’d rather not have to push my luck at trying.”

Drowning was actually something he was _trying_ to avoid for her; even if it would cause him great personal annoyance to ensure that.

“I won’t fault you for wanting to live out as many days as you can. Mortals have such tragically short lifespans,” he tried to lighten the mood and, despite joking about the pathetically ephemeral nature of humanity, she did laugh. “Anyway, you’ll need to contact a demigod I know to come cart you around.”

“You know someone who can get me off this island?” The unspoken question here was why he himself couldn’t just call this person if they were his acquaintance, but Tamatoa would rather avoid discussing his past, at least in this regard.

And no, that didn’t have anything to do with a lot of it involving a series of embarrassing losses on Tamatoa’s own end. It was just... too long and storied a history to recount before she’d inevitably die of exposure before he could finish.

As it was, all Tamatoa said was: “Yes. You’ll have to ask the Ocean to call for him.”

“The way you said that just now... sounds like you were describing the ocean as a person,” she probed shrewdly, impressing him a little.

“Yeah. But, not a person per say. More like, a sentient—thing?” He’d say “entity,” but that was a difficult word for him to wrap his mouth around and he didn’t want to flub in front of his little human.

“Huh.”

There was silence between them before Tamatoa cleared his throat and pushed her perhaps a little too eagerly, launching her face-first into the water. He was lifting her back up much more carefully before she could rise from the water herself and sputter the very mean insult he could see forming in her mouth at him.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, so throwing me into the water wasn’t how I’m supposed to _commune with the ocean_ , was it?” she snipped, shouldering his claw away when he left it hovering near her in case she slipped. Her tone was acidic enough to melt steel, but she was at least still waiting for his instruction.

“Eh, no. You need to talk to it, ask it for help. To _send_ you help.”

She waited out a tense tick of further silence. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Nooo _magical words_ I need to chant? No blood sacrifice required?” she asked frustratedly, perhaps wondering if she could have done this on her own before signing herself away on a blank check to a monstrous, egotistical crab.

“Well you’ve gotta really mean it,” Tamatoa tried to make it sound a bit more involved to assuage her wrath, “And ya gotta _really need it_ too. The Ocean only helps the humans it thinks are truly in need; and even then, only the ones still that are worthy of receiving that help.”

 _That_ was a debatable affirmation, but it’s not like the Ocean itself had any way to counter him.

Sadie sighed. Deeply.

“At least I look pathetic and bedraggled, then,” she muttered, a shadow of her usual good humor sneaking its way into her voice. Tamatoa smiled amicably at her and gestured toward the water, but not otherwise instructing her how to make her plea. It would be better if it _came from the heart_.

...That was a human thing, right? Speaking from the heart?

“Ocean,” Sadie began, sounding as though she couldn’t quite believe where she’d currently found herself: standing in waist-high water, talking into the dark void of the empty, unbroken horizon before her. But then she glanced to the fifty-foot sentiment crab beside her, a monster who could somehow speak her language despite apparently being older than time itself—a mysterious being that had interrupted her most dangerously destructive thoughts since being shipwrecked and had effectively saved her life, should she have decided to continue down that path.

And then it all didn’t seem as crazy.

“Ocean,” she continued, lowering her eyes to watch the broken reflection of moonlight in the ripples coming from her body as she shifted in the water, “I’m just a sad little human who’s found herself in a really hopeless situation.

I’d like to say that, if you help save me, I’ll devote my life to advocating for you. I’ll quit my job and start up some grassroots movement to clean up your waters. I’ll buy a barge that I’ll sail around the world, scooping up every damned piece of trash floating around in you like headlice on a kindergartener. I’ll even _personally_ pull straws out of the nose of any sea turtle I come across, like that gross video that circulates around on facebook every eighteen months when humanity needs to remind itself that it’s an irredeemable force of evil; but you, individually, are good for sharing that video to your echo chamber, even though it’s, at best, a token gesture that accomplishes nothing and, at worst, an deterrent to taking any actual action for the betterment of the planet _because sharing a video on the internet is basically worth five hours of community service, right_?”

Tamatoa coughed and Sadie seemed to reel herself back in from the tangent she was casting herself into. Apparently that was a touchy subject for her.

“Anyway. I can’t promise I’ll do any of that,” she said with unhelpful honesty that made Tamatoa grunt in frustration, “I am, after all, just a tiny human. Helpless and small. But I’m here, asking you, to take pity on me and deliver my message to someone who can ferry me away from this place, so that I might, someday, ascend beyond my status and actually do something good and helpful with my life.”

Finally, with a delicate reach of her hands, she flattened her palms along the surface of the ocean, her fingers splayed out from each other as far as they could go, as though to directly impart the plea of her final word: “Please.”

They were both deathly silent, as still as the grave, while they waited for... anything to happen.

Any moment now.

Sadie released a breath and Tamatoa shifted his weight as he began to sink into the wet sands they were stood in.

“Uh, so—” she sounded as though she felt completely stupid, but quickly cut herself off as a brilliant spark of bluey light shot off through the water away from her hands. Now it was a flurry of expletives that was leaving her mouth as she restrained herself from pulling her hands away; but she needn’t have bothered, as the Ocean was already sending her message away to the right person.

Tamatoa could understand why she thought she should remain still, of course. So he once more bumped her back to get her attention, this time with such a careful measure of force that she barely even noticed him.

“Come on then, _mon petit_ ,” he smiled warmly at her, “If I know Maui—and believe me, I unfortunately do—he’ll come but he’ll take til morning to do it.”

Maybe he could convince her to sing him a few more things while they waited.

 

* * *

 

 

> _[The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFkyDB2InTs) _  
>  _Of the big lake they called 'gitche gumee'_  
>  _The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead_  
>  _When the skies of November turn gloomy_  
>  _With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more_  
>  _Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty_  
>  _That good ship and crew was a bone to be chewed_  
>  _When the gales of November came early_
> 
> _The ship was the pride of the American side_  
>  _Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin_  
>  _As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most_  
>  _With a crew and good captain well-seasoned_  
>  _Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms_  
>  _When they left fully loaded for Cleveland_  
>  _And later that night when the ship's bell rang_  
>  _Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?_

“So how was it that the crabcake talked you into this, Sadie?”

Aforementioned human stopped her scream-singing in the face of the brisk winds that were lifting her heavy curls and filling the sail of Maui’s canoe as he carried her farther and farther away from her tiny island prison. She turned to look at him, steering from the aft of the vessel and looking so comfortable doing it that he’d barely even needed to watch where he was pointing them. He’d been incredibly keen to use her name, addressing her with it nearly every time since he’d learned it when he’d appeared with the rising sun and shook her awake from the spot she’d nestled herself into between the side of Tamatoa’s face and the arm he’d coiled protectively around her.

“Tamatoa?” she asked needlessly. As though there were some other entity about that could possibly qualify for a nickname like “crabcake.” Maui indicated this sentiment with a raised brow and unamused look. “Well you refuse to use his name, so I’ve gotta be sure.”

Then she faced forward again and continued her song for another verse.

 

> _The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound_  
>  _And a wave broke over the railing_  
>  _And every man knew, as the captain did too,_  
>  _T'was the witch of November come stealin'_  
>  _The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait_  
>  _When the gales of November came slashin'_  
>  _When afternoon came it was freezin' rain_  
>  _In the face of a hurricane west wind_

But then he was interrupting her again, not exactly disliking her singing, but instead wanting to press her for information before Tamatoa could butt in again.

“Can’t understand why you’d be so quick to defend him, since he’s basically holding you hostage with this little plan of his.”

Sadie made a loud noise of irritation, half way between a grunt and a sigh. “He’s not _holding me hostage_. He’s actually the one who’s promised to get me home.”

“She says to the demigod currently ferrying her around with his boat.” There was a smirk in his voice that Sadie couldn’t ignore any longer.

“Look dude, I may be a bit desperate to see the end of that damn island, but I’m not gonna turn on the person who offered to save me. Tamatoa needs me to help him with something and then he’s taking me home. That’s all I know, that’s all I’m telling, that’s all that matters.”

And then she started to sing again, just to annoy him. As though her defending that self-interested bottomfeeder wasn’t already annoying enough.

 

> _When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'_  
>  _Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya_  
>  _At seven pm a main hatchway caved in, he said_  
>  _Fellas, it's been good t'know ya_  
>  _The captain wired in he had water comin' in_  
>  _And the good ship and crew was in peril_  
>  _And later that night when his lights went outta sight_  
>  _Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald_
> 
> _Does anyone know where the love of God goes_  
>  _When the waves turn the minutes to hours?_

 “Who’s to say he’d doesn’t just leave you to die in Lalotai after you’ve outlived your usefulness?” Maui pestered her, but she continued to sing over him.

 

> _The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay_  
>  _If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her_  
>  _They might have split up or they might have capsized_  
>  _They may have broke deep and took water_

“Or maybe he decides he likes having a captive little human servant and reneges on your deal?” She continued to ignore him, almost feeling bad for being an ungrateful passenger but not quite.

 

> _And all that remains is the faces and the names_  
>  _Of the wives and the sons and the daughters_

“He’ll most likely just eat you, though.”

Well that got her attention.

“He eats people?” She wasn’t sure why that concept surprised her. Maybe because he’d been almost... lovingly tender with her? But still—

“He’s a monster, Sadie,” Maui completed her thought before she could finish it in her head, “Of course he eats people.”

She was silent, not glancing back at the surely smug look on his face. But she could hear it just fine in his voice.

“Granted, you two seemed nice and cozy this morning. I doubt he’d eat _you_. But, something for you to think about when you’re down there in the realm of monsters with no one to help you but him.”

Sadie let that settle in her mind before stubbornly continuing her song, feeling her smile return as Maui yelled in exasperation.

 

> _Lake Huron rolls, superior sings_  
>  _In the rooms of her ice-water mansion_  
>  _Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams_  
>  _The islands and bays are for sportsmen_  
>  _And farther below Lake Ontario_  
>  _Takes in what Lake Erie can send her_  
>  _And the iron boats go as the mariners all know_  
>  _With the gales of November remembered_
> 
> _In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,_  
>  _In the maritime sailors' cathedral_  
>  _The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times_  
>  _For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald_  
>  _The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down_  
>  _Of the big lake they call 'gitche gumee'_  
>  _Superior, they said, never gives up her dead_  
>  _When the gales of November come early_

“You can stop your singing now, Sadie. We’re here,” Maui grumbled as he turned the canoe sharply to the left and Sadie had to grab the mast quickly before she was cast from the platform and into the ocean. She only smiled coyly at him, hanging from the pole as though she’d meant to do it.

“Good timing. I just finished,” she quipped before facing front and gasping at the sight before her, “Wow!”

“Finally, a genuine reaction,” Maui muttered, but his smile softened as she ran as far forward as she was able so she could better take in the sight of the towering cliffside ahead of them. Despite still being a way off, the entrance to Lalotai was still incredible enough to steal her breath.

“I can’t believe this place hasn’t ever been found before. This would be an incredible discovery.”

Maui chortled at that, deciding not to argue with her the finer points of just how many magics kept this place a secret from modern humans, since it was fairly obvious she wasn’t a believer of anything particularly godlike. Whether she even truly believed him to be a demigod was debatable but not exactly pertinent.

Maui helped the humans, whether they remembered him or not. Whether they believed in him or not.

She’d asked, and he’d came.

Just to deliver her to her certain death.

They docked as best they could alongside the jutting peak that was the entrance to Lalotai and Maui busied himself with tying up his canoe as, surprisingly, Tamatoa surfaced to talk with Sadie once more before they began their ascent. If he were being honest with himself, Maui had not expected the crab to see her off; and he found himself anchoring the vessel slower than necessary to better eavesdrop unnoticed.

“Trip go ok, _mon petit_?”

“Oh sure, no troubles. And I didn’t get shipwrecked again, so I gotta call that a definite change in my bad luck streak.”

He actually laughed at her quip, lowering his face to be more at her level, “I’ll be waiting down there for you, right where you’ll come out the other side.”

“So I really gotta climb that, huh? No chance you could just like—” she dropped their prolonged eye contact to make a motion like she was throwing something high above her head, “—toss me up there instead?”

“If I thought you could survive it: for you, I would.”

Maui was going to throw up.

“Come on, I know you’d be gentle with me, Tamatoa.”

Now not only was Maui feeling like he might throw up, he was also starting to feel like he was intruding on a conversation he ought not.

Feeling massively uncomfortable, the demigod straightened and swiveled to pick up the little human and pitch her over his shoulder, so as to better lob her up onto the first plateau leading upwards. “Ok kid, time to go.”

Tamatoa made a noise of anger behind him but Maui just watched in confusion as Sadie held her hands out to him placatingly. “It’s ok, big guy, I’m alright. See—no cuts or nothing.”

In context, it made sense for her to verify this for the giant crab, as he was currently holding onto not only her cell phone, but also most of her clothing aside from an orange crop top and her smallclothes. She had managed to save a watertight baggie from her wrecked vessel, which now contained the items she didn’t want getting waterlogged on her trip down into Lalotai. Tamatoa was carrying it all for her; Maui had assumed that was originally as ransom for her to uphold her end of their bizarre bargain, but now he couldn’t be sure.

Tamatoa grumbled from his half-submerged position, causing bubbles to rise along the surface of the ocean, “I still think you should just wear your clothes. You’re going to get hurt climbing the cliff, which is _worse_ than just dealing with being wet for a little while.”

Had it been her idea?

“Says you. There are few things worse than wearing wet jeans. And they take forever to dry.”

So it had been her idea.

“Just don’t let him stare at you too much. In fact, you should let Maui go first.”

What? Hey! He took offense to that insinuation!

“Hey!” Maui actually spoke, shaking himself from the weird haze this even weirder conversation had cast over him, “In case you’ve forgotten, _I’m_ the one helping _you_.”

“So get to climbing,” both Sadie and Tamatoa mocked him in unison. They didn’t even seem thrown by this happening.

An hour and thirty minutes of scaling the cliff and pointed silence later, Maui and Sadie had found themselves atop the mountain. True to her word, she had been careful. Not so much as a cut on her.

Not that Maui was looking all that closely. He somehow felt that Tamatoa would know if he let his gaze linger on her body for more than a second, even from all the way, miles and miles directly below them, in Lalotai.

“Tama said to expect some line about the gate requiring a human sacrifice to open? And also not to believe you, of course,” she intoned his way, cutting through the clouds in his mind. The cute little nickname didn’t pass under his radar, despite this.

“You actually like him, don’t you?” he asked in lieu of a response to her jibe. She seemed genuinely caught off guard by the question, perhaps due to it coming out of nowhere. But maybe also because it was more truthful than she wanted to be with a stranger.

“Uh—” she stammered momentarily before giving in and looking a little... worried, “Yeah, I kinda do.”

She was blushing.

“You’re... interested in him.”

She was now as red as the sky at dawn when the weather was threatening afternoon storms.

She didn’t confirm it, but she probably figured her flush had given her away and that there was no point trying to deny it. So instead she just asked, sounding small and a little scared: “Is that weird?”

Maui sighed, moved over to the mechanism to trigger the gate, and shook his head.

“Not nearly as weird as you’d think,” he mumbled to himself, but Sadie still most likely heard. He took a few minutes to explain how she could reenter Lalotai if she were on her own—it _did_ actually require a bit of blood to open up if he weren’t the one doing it—before performing the brief ritual a magical being, whether some other kind of monster or a demigod such as himself, could use to open the gate.

“Look, all I’m going to say is to be careful; he’s still a monster, despite how he may have been treating you thus far. Trust me: Tamatoa and I go way back—used to be pretty good friends before I ripped off his leg,” Maui yelled nonchalantly over the groaning of stone-on-stone as the gate split and pulled Sadie farther away from him until they were separated by a wide expanse of the shimmery, insidiously beautiful void below. “That said, you’re exactly his type. And that may be enough to tame his worst inclinations.”

Sadie was quiet for a minute, searching his face for subterfuge but finding none. “And what if I’m into those inclinations?”

Maui snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Well then go get him, monster fucker.”

Saying it to anyone else would have been an insult, but, obviously, to Sadie it was just fuel to the fire. And she was laughing and grinning at him from ear to ear before jumping ecstatically into the pit.

“Thank you, Maui!” she called as she fell, her voice and childlike laughter finally fading as the gate snapped closed. Maui found himself smiling, despite the very strange day he’d found himself having. His mind drifted off to Moana, even after all this time—how she was also one to see the good, the beauty, in people that may or may not actually deserve it—and his heart ached only a little.

“You’re welcome.”

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh a lot of this story was inspired by the idea of "what is Tamatoa found a girl who would sing to herself every night at the shore?" It originally morphed from when Hurly does the same thing at the end of each episode in season one of Lost (listening to a song to end the day, that is. Not sing.)  
> Her phone dying mid-song is actually a direct rip of this, where Hurly's walkman batteries die and he just sits there a little sadly and the episodes cuts with just the sound of the ocean. That's always stuck with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey, come check out my [tumblr](https://alien-ariel7.tumblr.com/). I'm in the process of updating it at the moment after taking a few months off from writing due to a lot of shit going down in my family recently. Mind the dust, but the first supplementary thing I post will be a concept image for the reader character.
> 
> Comments always appreciated. And go in peace, fellow monster fuckers.


End file.
